| |
IT WAS HALF PAST NINE when he finally got home, dumped his bike on the back lawn and stumped to the house. The porch light was on and the back door was open, and in the kitchen his mother was sitting at the table. She looked up from her book as he came in.
"And just where have you been?" she growled ominously, slapping down her book and rising to her feet.
Randy slumped miserably into a chair, "Up the stall," he said weakly, "to get the last of the manure money. "
"Oh Randy!" she said in exasperation. "you've really been taking this thing too far. You could've at least told me you were going. I've been worried sick!"
"It got nicked," he said numbly, ignoring her outburst. "The money's been nicked."
"What?" she said.
"Some thieving bath-plugs took the honesty box. Ripped it out, chain and all, for a few lousy bucks!"
"Oh no!"
"The very last bit we needed," he whimpered, letting a few tears dribble down his face (and he wasn't pretending). "We could have won, but now ..."
"Oh Randy," his mother said sweetly, coming around the table to give him a hug. "How much do you think you lost?"
This was better: practical sympathy at last! "Four dollars." he whimpered.
A cloud of disbelief slid across her face and her eyes rolled to follow it. A sad sigh was to follow, lacking much real sympathy. "Very well," she said in her no-nonsense/I-am-your-mother/don't-you-forget-it voice, "I'll bail you out this time, since it's for the fundraising, but next time you go flying off into the night without a by-your-leave you're really going to see the sparks fly, I promise!" and she reached for her purse.
He grovelled, "Yeah, sorry Mum, I really should have said where I was going, Sorry." He humbly stuck out his hand for the five-dollar note. That reminded him . . .
As soon as he could he slipped away to his bedroom and looked around for his shorts, the pair he had been wearing yesterday. They were not to be seen.
He went back to the kitchen and asked, as casually as he could, "Ahhh, Mum, have you, uh, have you seen my other pair of school pants?"
"Oh! And that's another thing, Randy Cathro," she said, slapping down her book and rising to her feet again. "How many times do I have to tell you about your washing? You left those filthy stinking- shorts on your bedroom floor for me to pick up. I tell you, boy, if they weren't already in the machine I'd rub your face in them right now!"
"Arrrrrrgh!" he said, running to the laundry.
It took a lot of explaining, that wet, crumpled five dollar note he fished from the washing machine, but he managed to do it in the end. It just required a little bit of lying: "It's something I had left over from my Christmas money. Remember that twenty from Grandma? . . . No, no, I didn't spend it all, I put a bit away. I was sort of saving it. . . Well, you know, nothing really, but just the other day I decided to get something for Tammy 'coz she's been such a great help on the stall and all that and... Oh, ah, I was thinking of chocolates, but they ruin your skin don't they? So maybe flowers or perfume or something? What do you think?"
It would have been a lot easier if he had simply not screamed at all.
#
HIS LEGS WERE ACHING next morning as he hobbled to the breakfast table, deliberately clutching yesterday's pair of shorts for the wash. "Oh," he said, looking down absent-mindedly and turning back towards the laundry once he was sure his mother had seen what he was holding.
'Very good," she said dryly. "Now keep it up until you leave home, all right? And perhaps you could also learn to use the machine for yourself sometime in the next decade?" She changed her tone, "I did you an egg. You've been looking awfully pale recently."
He sat down at the table. "Uh, thanks, Mum."
Beau was already there, silently picking at her breakfast. Randy glanced at her across the table. Today was going to be as big a day for her as it was going to be for him, but at least he could guarantee that he was going to win.
Then he felt a moment of anxiety and checked his pocket for the fiver his mother had given him. Yes, it was still there.
Even so the anxiety would not leave him alone. Maybe he should go out and find that little bag and take it on to the old lady after all. It would only take ten minutes, and the extra dollar could be vital . . . and maybe she'd pay for some more bags in advance . . . deliver them this afternoon . . .
"Randy," said a voice in the distance. "Randy?"
Slowly he returned to the present. "Yeah?"
"Telephone for you," repeated his mother, waving the cordless in front of his face. It looked like she'd been standing there for some time.
"Oh, sorry. Ta. Hello?"
"Randy," said a male voice. "It's Mr Tully here. Look, ah, I assume you've got that prize sorted out, haven't you?"
"Oh yes, all done." (Oh No! Oh Hell!)
"Good, right, so I'd like you to get the certificates or gift vouchers or whatever they are to me before school, so I can get them into envelopes ready for the prize-giving. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure, no problems." (Aaaaaargh!)
"Good. Before nine, all right?"
"All right, yes sir. Bye." He hit the off button.
Damn! Damn-damn-damn!
He scoffed his egg and toast and sprang up from the table. "Gotta go. Bye, Mum."
"Bye! Good luck!"
His bike seat was wet and there was manure on the handgrips but Randy leapt on regardless and forced his aching muscles into action, pedalling out the gate and left towards town instead of right towards school. His whole morning was ruined!
#
THE ZAP-ZONE WAS CLOSED. He hammered on the door leaving faint green splodges on the thick glass. Bang, bang, bang! "Mr Boyd?" Bang, bang, bang! "Mr Boyd?" No reply.
He hurried around the back, looking for some sort of side entrance. He banged repeatedly on several different doors but to no avail. Then he saw a flash car pulling into the carpark at the rear of the building. He hurried towards it.
"Oh, you again," grunted Mr Boyd as he heaved his big frame out of the car. "Wondered when you would show up again."
"Yeah, ah, about that prize thing," began Randy nervously, "well, Mr Tully at school, he wants the gift voucher things today. Like, this morning."
"Gift vouchers?" "queried Boyd, locking his car.
"Yeah, you know - the free day thing for two."
"For two?" Boyd sounded surprised.
"Ahh, yeah," said Randy as calmly as he could, trying to contain his panic. It couldn't go wrong now. It mustn't!
"First I ever heard about it," said Boyd suspiciously, turning to face Randy full on as he slowly folded his arms across his chest.
Randy smiled helplessly. "I'm sure we told you ..."
Boyd frowned. "That TV guy, what was his name again?"
Randy had to think for a moment, it was something about going to the toilet. Pee-ing ... peeing ... Ah! "Lewis P. Fourward?"
"Yeah, Lewis - when he spoke to me he said nothing about the prize being for two."
Randy laughed lightly, his best oh-I-see-now-where-we-went-wrong laugh. "Ah, you see, the fundraisers have been working in teams of two, see? For safety reasons. Like, the school is very safety conscious. That's why it's such a great school and really deserves the support of the community. You know the money's not just for the rugby team, don't you? The whole school's going to benefit – " And before he could stop himself he was babbling away in adult-speak " – the whole town's been so supportive, really great, which has been so good for the school, and it really needs the support of the community now since it's so hard to ..." Yadda-yadda-yadda.
But the man appeared to be totally unmoved.
"All right," said Randy in desperation, "all right, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours . . ." (Think, brain, think! Sure, he knew what he'd like to scratch the guy's back with - a sharpened gardening fork - but he wasn't going to say that! "How's about you make the prize out for two and I'll never ever come back into the Zap-Zone ever again?"
Mr Boyd snorted. "Huh, better than nothing I suppose. Okay. I'll work it out sometime." Then he turned towards the building as if Randy had suddenly disappeared.
"Now?" asked Randy hopefully, following behind like a good dog (or a bad smell). "Mr Tully said -"
"Alright, alright!" snapped Boyd. "Just give me a minute will you?" With maddening slowness he turned back to his car, unlocked his briefcase on the bonnet and began rummaging for a pen and some paper. He wrote something and handed it over.
FUNDRAISERS' PRIZE
ONE FREE DAY* FOR 2
@ KAINUI ZAP-ZONE
Barry Boyd, Manager
( * at manager's discretion )
It would have to do. In fact in light of the circumstances it was something of a miracle. "Thanks Mr Boyd," Randy said, "thanks ever so much!" He folded the precious piece of paper carefully into his breast pocket, then bolted.
He burned rubber all the way to school and raced to the school office. A big noisy crowd was watching the final results go up on the chart. As he squeezed through the throng, trying to be invisible and ignoring the shouts of "Hey, lover-boy!" and "Oo-ooo-oo!" he glanced up at the chart. Things were looking really good. Toi and Lloyd were currently in the lead, five dollars ahead of Bridget and Suzy. Tweety and Chas had squeaked into third just three dollars further down, then came Tammy and him just one dollar below that. The rest of it didn't matter. He had won!
First though, he had to get across to Tammy.
"Hey, guess what?" he whispered once he had jostled his way to her side. "Those last two bags sold!"
"You went out again?" she said reproachfully.
"Yeah, had to, no other choice."
"Oh Randy! You shouldn't have!"
'Anyway, what does it matter now?" he said, cheerfully getting out the fiver. "Here!"
"Oh, you put it in," she said. "I've already done the rest. "
His head snapped around. Swiftly he re-examined the chart. "Oh no!"
"Yeah," sighed Tammy. "I know."
"That means we'll only be second!"
"Everyone did so well last night!" she remarked admiringly.
"But. . . haven't you got some lunch money or something?" he spluttered. "Anything?"
She shook her head, then explained, "It's been going on all morning; people putting in their lunch money, trying to set their favourites up, but it sounds like everyone's flat broke now and it's all done." Then she looked at the fiver and brightened. 'Ah well, at least we'll be second. Come on!" She took him by the hand and dragged him to the office window. "Five more on Tammy and Randy!" she called to Mrs Ngarata.
"Ooo-ooooo-ool" went the crowd.
"Arrgh!" wailed Tweety and Chas.
"Damn!" hissed Bridget, and there were cheers, laughter, groans, and calls by some of the girls for more donations towards Bridget and Suzy's total.
Someone went running, saying they might know someone with a few more dollars, and Randy suddenly had a brilliant idea.
"Hang on," he said quickly to Mrs Ngarata, "I'll be right back!"
"You'll have to be quick!" she called after him. "I'm closing the moment I hear the bell."
Randy glanced at the clock. It was eight minutes to nine.
"Right!" He ran for the nearest door.
If biking home from school was an Olympic event Randy would have won gold. He cut corners, went through the reserve (No Cycling!) and rode the footpaths freely.
But things slowed up a little when he hit the back door at speed and expected it to fly open. It was locked solid.
He sprinted around to the front door but that was locked too, as were the ranchsliders on the side. He shook the handle frantically, shouting, "Mum? Mum!"
She was not in.
This meant only one thing: it was going to have to be the toilet window. Up the pipe he went and leg first in. It had been at least a year since he had last used this particular entrance and the gap had definitely shrunk since then. With a final neck-twisting squirm he disappeared.
Exactly fourteen seconds later he reappeared out the front door, slammed it shut behind him and sprinted back around the house to his bike. With Bennithorpe's donation in his pocket and his bike in top gear he was racing again; footpath - reserve - cut the corner - tear down the dotted line – cut another corner into Domain Road - left into College Road for the final sprint - and Ringg went the school bell up ahead.
'Aaargh! Dammit!"